The Argosy — page 93: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

82 I'tfty Pounds Reward. - immediately, she gave orders for a fly to be in readiness to catch the next up train, and that her fur travelling cloak and boots should be put to the fire immediately. In the anxiety that all the domestics felt to take a share in the general excitement, Miss Greybrook’s cloak threatened to be torn in pieces, and when wanted, one fur boot was found warming in front of the kitchen fire, the other reposing on the sheep-skin rug beside the drawing-room steel fender. However, vouchsafing never a word of explanation, but happily for the sanity of those she left behind, dropping the telegram in the hall as she walked out to the fly, Miss Greybrook started alone on her travels. The dull, foggy shades of a London winter evening had gathered, and two big and two little faces were pressed tight against the grimey top windows of a house in a Westminster street, as a cab drove up. ‘Go and bring her up-stairs, Clara,” said Tom. ‘‘I can’t go in my slippers.” “ Yes—but I’m so afraid of her!” All fears were obliged to disappear, however, for the object of them had not waited to be brought up. She had intimidated the landlady by the commanding voice in which she had desired to be shown to the apartments of Mr.and Mrs. Thomas Greybrook Craven ; and that fat and lazy person had preceded the strange lady rapidly up so many flights, that on reaching the top landing Miss Greybrook stood silent and stately, for she could not speak. She waved the landlady down again, just as the latter wanted to look in and see what would happen next. Then Tom advanced, and his godmother kissed him first, then his wife. Then, observing Bobby and Bertie, she grimly smiled, and remarked aloud, but to herself, evidently : ‘Children, of course !—being as poor as church mice.” Looking round the wretched room, and shaking the three chairs, she chose the least rickety, and sat down. ; “Pack up—haven’t got much to pack that I can see. You must all come back with me to-night.” Tom Craven and his wife exchanged glances, and at last Tom deferentially ventured to speak : ‘You see, dear godmother, we—we need a few things to make us presentable at your house.” ‘‘Eh! what? My house is my own. Come as you are.” The worst must be said, then! ‘‘ But—please excuse such a state of matters, but—I’ve got no boots !” Miss Greybrook gasped, and stared from one to the other. “ Boots! my godson without Jdoofs? Here, Clara—that’s your name, I believe—run out, child, and buy all you need for everybody : and let us get out of this place: I can’t breathe.” Away ran poor Clara, holding the fat purse Miss Greybrook pushed into her hand, and all unconscious what she carried in it. It felt so full, however, that she took acab and drove first to a boot shop where Gomichbooks.co m